


The Wee Hours

by felandaris



Series: Caboodles and Chantry Boys [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alistair's bum, Consensual Sex, F/M, M/M, Sexual Tension, Threesome - F/M/M, based on art, early morning, is delicious, tasty Templar sandwich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5198984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felandaris/pseuds/felandaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short drabble based on this <a href="http://cullenstairshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/133091156103/leo-fina-alistair-theirin-by-leo-fina-reblog"> gorgeous piece of NSFW art</a> by leofina</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wee Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leofina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leofina/gifts).



> [ Song to go with this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSLalNo6hoI%0A)

The dying fire’s fading gleam is the room’s only light source, casting a play of shadows on the bare figure pattering towards the dresser.

 

Before he can grab his clothes something catches Alistair’s attention, and he looks over his shoulder. Yet- sleepy eyes narrow in a grin. The warmth on his back isn’t coming from the fire alone but from the four eyes glued to him- _to his buttocks, to be precise_.

                                  

It’s too early for witticisms so he gives a quiet snort. When neither spectator flinches he wiggles his hips, flexes his cheeks that are rounder nowadays but seem to hold some appeal still. He’s rewarded with an approving female hum and the twitch of a lip scar.

 

Alistair is about to turn and face them when Herald and Commander exchange a glance. Then things happen fast.

 

The rustle of sheets and the lightest footfalls precede the sharp _smack_ , a split second’s fleshy quiver and the sting of two palms on his rear. He chuckles then, shakes his head as they move to stand close.

 

Whimsy soon evolves into something else, something that doesn’t need words.             

 

The brief drag of hardening peaks on his skin as she gets on her toes in front of him. Their kiss remains an innocent brush of soft against rough for all of a few seconds. Then her tongue demands entry and his fingers wind into her hair all on their own, gripping tousled tresses.

 

It's not long until lips smack, teeth click and one of them moans (though he couldn't tell who). Large hands settle on his waist. Fine hairs, muscles _and more_ press into his back, eager hips give a testing tilt forward. But it's when a stubbly cheek grazes his neck, knowing lips tug on his earlobe that his body, _all of it_ , fully stirs to life.

 

He groans, inhaling morning and lust from the two bodies caging him in. The bodies he never knew would mould so well against his. The bodies he lies craving so often, release from his lonely tugs never possibly sufficient.

Alistair's eyes open ( _when had he closed them?_ ) Her eyes blaze want at him, the same want stirring in his groin. The same longing fluttering in his gut, its urgency barely quelled by these brief _diplomatic_ visits. The same desperate wish to defy propriety a little longer, enjoy each other for another precious hour.

 

There is order. There is decorum. There are meetings, appointments, a schedule full of important nonsense.

 

But there's also the scent of her hair, the squeeze of firm breasts against his chest. There's the tongue sliding up his ear, the wide toe idly stroking his foot. And there is a whole world of desire pounding in his heart, warming his stomach, stiffening his cock. There’s moist and hard, inviting, beckoning him. He turns on a shaky exhale, tilting his head in contemplation as he looks at tangled sheets.

 

Ferelden’s king does make his way back to his quarters. Under the guise of lingering night and with the scout uniform’s hood pulled deep into his face, he quietly passes through Skyhold’s elaborate tunnel system. A servant greets him along with the first rays of sunlight.

 

His Majesty’s departure did, however, suffer a delay as he was dragged into bed for another round of indulgence- and a closer examination of those tempting buttocks.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> [Find me (and the boys) on Tumblr!](https://http://cullenstairshenanigans.t%20Tumblr.com) ʘ‿ʘ


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